


Live With That

by Trash_tzar



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: F/M, Prompted yet super self indulgent trash, trash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-16
Updated: 2016-09-16
Packaged: 2018-08-15 07:59:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8048521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trash_tzar/pseuds/Trash_tzar
Summary: Renee Minkowski lives with the reality of almost losing her closest friend again, and again, and again. Also, Doug Eiffel has no idea how to handle tense situations.





	Live With That

**Author's Note:**

  * For [badskeletonpuns](https://archiveofourown.org/users/badskeletonpuns/gifts).



> KFAM may let me down, but Minffle never disappoints (in other words, I'm using Minffle to ignore KFAM discourse). But wow? I actually like this? Anyway, this was really a prompt from tumblr but I liked it enough to put it here even if it's a little short. God, I've missed writing these two.

“Ok, rank my almost-deaths.”

“Eiffel, why would I _ever_ do that.” Minkowski groaned good naturdly, tossing a pillow at him. She thanked the Urania for the first time for bringing its artificial gravity and allowing the pillow to land right on his nose, making Eiffel laugh his stupid, infuriatingly endearing laugh.

They had decided to use their increasingly rare free time to hide away from Kepler in Eiffel’s room, Eiffel rooted at the head of his bed, Minkowski on the foot, feet entangled in the middle.

“Please, Minkowski?” He pleaded childishly, clasping his hands together and pouting his lip for extra effect. She didn’t want to talk about him dying. It was so fresh, so terrifying, so _real_. She had had a front row seat for every time he had come close to leaving her behind, and she wasn’t happy about it.

“Why would you even want to talk about this?”

“Because it’s not like I haven’t repressed all of it. I barely remember most of them. Besides, I’d love a spectators opinion on how pretty I was in peril.”

“…Fine. Whatever.” She sighed reluctantly, chuckling a bit in spite of herself.

“Yes! This should be good.” He cheered, pumping a fist in the air and flopping down onto the pillow behind him.

“I think the time Hera accidentally cut off your oxygen while trying to kill Hilbert was easily number five out of five. Suffocating in space is something we _actually_ train for.” She said it nonchalantly, as if her hands hadn’t been shaking in fear as she had burst into the room, holding the oxygen mask to his face until he took a quivering, strained gasp of air. He hadn’t been the only one holding his breath.

“I… Actually forgot that one happened. When did suffocating become the most boring way I almost died?”

“Because you’re a nutcase?”

“Acceptable. Continue.”

“Next has got to be the drowning in space bit.” Her blood had been pounding. If he died, it was her fault. She wasn’t fast enough, she wasn’t smart enough. She was a failure.

“Ah, irony. My old friend.”

“Then there was the giant spider of doom.” At least she had been able to see the humor in that one. A bit. The way he had squeezed her hand, begged her for comfort, had given her nightmares for a long, long time.

“Don’t. Let’s not. Never. Again.” He scooted closer to her on the bed, and wagged a finger at her accusingly. He was too shaken for her to take it seriously.

“Agreed,” she laughed, begging herself to push away the nightmares of two floating corpses, spider and human.

“After that is probably-” she swallowed hard. These last two were the worst. “-the Decima incident.” Her voice was little more than a whisper, eyes cast to the side. She had been so _useless_. He was dying in a way more horrible was than she could have imagined, and she couldn’t do anything about it. It would be on her if he died on Hilbert’s table. His blood, her hands. But worst of all, if he died, she was alone with Hilbert and Lovelace. That’s when she first started to realize just how much she needed him.

He inched himself closer, taking her hand tentatively by the fingers, suddenly muted and gentle.

“Hey, I’m sorry. I forgot that you had to watch it happen every time. You remember them all, don’t you?”

“Perfectly.” She managed to choke out, squeezing her hand into his. They say like that for a moment, his breath ruffling the finer hairs at her temple. She wanted to lean into his warmth, wrap him around her and never let him out of her sight again.

“So,” he chirped suddenly, obviously hoping to change the tone of the conversation just a bit, but still keeping a tight grip on her hand. “Me getting blown away was the worst? Seriously?”

“Absolutely.” She snapped. How could he even ask? “It was different. _So_ different. This wasn’t just a close call where everything turned out alright in the end. You were gone. You were _dead_. And I got left behind. And I could never stop asking myself all these horrible questions. How could I have lost him? How could I have asked him to go out there? Why do I have to keep losing him over and over and over and-” she cut herself off when the bubble in her throat threatened to manifest into a sob.

His eyes were downcast. He didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t blame him.

“I would’ve figured you would enjoy an Eiffel-cation.” He joked, glancing up and flashing her his crooked grin. He was a true master of awkward situations. But she thinks it works. That grin was the definition of kind.

“Actually… I just missed you.” She sighed, defeated. She was so tired of pretending she didn’t felt the way she did. She leaned forward, gently placing her forehead on his. “When you came back… God, I’m sorry this is going to be so vague.” She muttered, squeezing her eyes shut. “I don’t think I can describe what it felt like to see you alive.”

“I think I can.” He breathed. His gentle lean forward made her lips part expectantly as his mouth met hers, gently, gently.

He was right. The kiss was perfectly what she had felt when he had come back. A little scared, a little disbelieving, but so very soft, and warm, and more than a little desperate, too. She pulled him closer by the collar of his shirt as his hand reached to the back of her neck, twining his fingers into her hair. They pulled away just the slightest bit, just enough to breath.

“You won’t lose me.” He breathed against her lips.

“You think you can promise that?”

“Oh, not a chance in hell, but it’s nice to pretend for a little while, right?” She hummed a contented note, smiling as she brought him back for another kiss.

“I think I can live with that.”


End file.
